Making Films Part 1

I just can't stop doing it

Cutting down trees.
That's it.
I'm addicted.
This morning I go out to meet my new friend Shozeena. She's wonderful, she can't speak, and I think that's what makes her so wonderful, she doesn't EVER interrupt what I'm saying.
So, anyway, I'm all dressed in my finery, blue smock, tap-shoes, deadly shade of pink lip-gloss (just a touch) and I'm walking down one of the many hills in Edinburgh, which is where she lives (Gosh! You should see that bumpy old city, it's nothing like home at all.) and I see this tree. And it's sweet, it really is. It's just beginning to flower and people who pass it by probably don't notice it, but if they did they'd think about getting married and having their photos done under that tree, or if they were already married they might remember times from their childhood playing in the dappled sunlight, climbing every tender branch of a different, but similar tree from back home. But me? I just get this itch inside, like something's got to happen and I can't help it. I go over and I get out my penknife and I hack a branch off, then another one, then eventually I work my way down to the thing...the main bit what's it called?...the TRUNK! That's it. The trunk. And I slice it and it takes me ages, but eventually I get that F**ker down and it's mine. Forever. No more weddings, no more childhood memories.
I know it's bad, but I can't help myself.
I need help!

Bye

Mxxxx

Phil

Brittle

Chlorene

So, last night I go swimming right. And it's in this pool right. And there's this stuff right. IT's called Chlorene right.
No.
Let me start that again.
I go swimming and I'm on my third length, so I'm nearly done, when I hear the most outrageous accent I've ever heard. It was a sort of Glaswegian (that's what they call things from Glasgow) high pitched, well, a sort of a slither. Like a slithering, sucking sound. Like a zithering or a slygoing. It was so high pitched all the dog's ears went up who were in the pool. Dogs need some pampering too! And they start barking, uncontrollably sinking back into their animal natures, after I'd spent the last two months teaching them all how to make vodka-martinis! I couldn't believe it.


So, I look round and what was it? It was my friend Richie, that what.



He'd decided to join the gym too and here he was decked out in the most disgusting pair of Gucci swimpods I have ever seen. I mean they were bright orange with a blue bib. Can you believe that? Me either.
So anyway, he comes across and I'm like 'Hi Jamie' and he's like shrieking 'OH MY GOD, MUSTY!' and I'm like 'How's it goin'?' and he's like 'OH MY GOD, IT'S GOING SO WELL' and I'm like-

well, to cut a long story short.

Me Telly Face and Washing Machine

Another One Gone to Seed

So, me tomatoes are so big now. But what I don't get is how come they grow so well in Glasgow, but they won't grow at all in Cumbernauld.

The Devil Loves Me

I done a deal with him.
I said, if you buy two tins of plum tomatoes, I'll give you the third free.
He said he'd rather have a little nibble on my toes for breakfast and I said it was the tomatoes or nothing.
Finally!
It's happened. He took them away this afternoon.

Goodbye and good luck and check out my friend's writerly website

www.robevans.info

ME Magic FACE

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